Colours
by Cynical-Smile01
Summary: During the War the saying "never judge a book by its cover" has never been more true. Being a student in Hogwarts with Snape as headmaster is a dangerous job. You should never judge a person by the colour of their tie. Things are about to get ugly.
1. Shades of Blue

**Shades of Blue**

**There are many shades of blue. There are the pure blues, who seem to radiate the very meaning of the colour. There are those that border on purple. A bold colour. A mixture of red and blue, but blue has more dominance. There are those that are a sort of green colour, without the harshness of pure green, sort of soft and delicate; and there is turquoise: a cold, unforgiving colour that doesn't seem quite natural. But no matter what, they are still blue.**

**Set during Deathly Hallows, but at different times and not in chronological order. Some references to torture of children, but not particularly graphic, though mentions of blood and terrified 2nd years. Yes, Snape seems evil. He has a Death Eater persona to keep up and all! You should exercise caution, and that is why it is rated 13+. Explicit language mentioned but never written, though there are one or two choice phrases, however nothing I didn't know aged 10. **

**I don't own Harry Potter, though I wish I did, and have no right to any of the characters. I don't own Monty Python either. Please review with constructive criticism.**

On this particular Sunday afternoon, a certain Terry Boot sat in the corner of the foreign language section of Hogwarts, more specifically the Ancient Greek section. It wasn't an unusual occurrence; far from it. If asked to name the 5 most regular visitors to her library, Madam Pince would have Terry Boot, just below Hermione Granger. But she was no longer here. There were many that were not here.

At the end of each book case there was the posters the Carrows posted about. Filled with lists of wrongdoers and their punishments. One of the earlier ones read: _Ginny Weasley: attacking Slytherin students, Cruciatus and solitary confinement; Neville Longbottom: insulting Professors Carrow and Carrow, subjected to curse practice. _One from about a month back was quite similar but with the addition of:_ Padma Patil: Cursing Professor Alecto Carrow, subjected to curse practice._ Layers of aging parchment covered the whole library with the punishments of the students, ranging from the most severe punishments for the DA who were caught, for example days in solitary confinement and long periods under cruciatus, and the more minor ones, such as a short dose of the cruciatus for first years who got lost and were late. And right at the bottom of the most recent list: _Anthony Goldstein and Michael Corner: freeing detainees, Cruciatus and solitary confinement. _The oppressive posters left an atmosphere of gloom, no-one wanting to even make a sound, for fear it would upset the Carrows.

Terry wished he could take Seamus' advice "Always look on the bright side of life.", but on days like this, it was impossible, and he felt more alone than ever. The towering cases leered at him, like he was some freak show. He felt like it some days. He wanted his friends back, but that wasn't possible. He would end up like them, and then what use would he be, tied up rather than translating ancient tomes. He was the only one who could translate Ancient Greek; Michael could cope with Modern Greek among other things, and Anthony was good at Latin based languages, though he excelled at Hebrew, which the others couldn't get their Ravenclaw knowledge round. They were rather behind on the Hebrew and Modern Greek because Anthony and Michael were missing, and they couldn't afford to be behind on the Ancient Greek transcripts. Parvati and Padma could translate the Indian scripts, they had lost a few days when Padma was out due to being injured, and Li could do both Chinese and Japanese, which thankfully she was on top of. There was a few who could do other languages in other houses, but Ravenclaws seemed to possess the most multi-linguists. Also, if he was strung from chains, how could he create spells to help the DA? He hated to say it, but he was the best spell creator in the school. It seemed like their best eggs were all thrown into one basket.

Ploughing on, he found a piece that may have some use, and began transcribing.

DotDotDot

Michael Corner hung limply from chains in a small cell, probably 3 metres by 3 metres, struggling as much as possible in his exhausted condition to try to resist the manacles suspending him an agonising foot above the floor. His arms felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets, and he suspected his wrist was twisted. Oh God, he could see the page in his textbook with the exact healing spell he should use, but he was wandless, with no use of his hands.

It had felt like days since he had been brought down here, but with no sunlight he had no way of knowing just how many that number of "days" was. His voice was hoarse from lack of water and screaming, and every now and then he could hear the grumble of his stomach groaning contorted cries of hunger, but he had learnt to overcome them from the many stays in the dungeons. Damned him and his stupid heroic nature. Shouldn't his Ravenclaw logic have dictated to him that rescuing First Years from chains when the Carrows were in the next corridor was stupid: especially if you forgot a silencing charm. He knew Anthony was in the cell next door - he had seen him placed there when they were captured - but had heard no noises, so he suspected there may be silencing charm. He deserved this punishment to remind him that he should exercise more caution next time. And at least the firsties escaped. He knew from previous experience that the Carrows would take more delight in torturing him than they would recapturing the first years, so often they just got away.

There was a clink outside the door and the click of a lock. The short stumpy figure of Amycus Carrow stood there laughing. He could see him enjoying every last second of this.

"Ah, Corner. When Alecto told me, she said ya' were ta be left 'lone for a _few_ hours, justa see if ita loosen yah tongue. I 'ope ya'll answer nicely."

"Foul, pathetic excuse for a wizard and a human being."

"Lil' bugga! Don't ya even think ya can call me tha'!"

"I'm sorry my good fellow, would you prefer it phrased differently?" Michael let of a string of expletives in various languages, suggesting various things about his mother and a pig, and calling his status as a human into question.

"Now ya talk sa I can un'erstand! Don't want nathin' o' this foreign muck!"

"I am sorry good sir, but your speech is not one I can understand, despite my wide vocabulary in many languages, none of which you would understand. It is preventing us from having a purposeful discussion."

Carrow let a wide grin consume his face, and drew his wand. Michael felt the wracking pain of the Cruciatus running through his body, but on the inside, despite his screams, he felt bolder than ever before. _Terry, I told you courage doesn't have to come in red and gold._

DotDotDot

Mandy Brocklehurst sat in the top floor dormitory of the girl's wing of Ravenclaw tower. The moon was shining from behind the clouds, but little light got through. Mandy sighed. She remembered Dumbledore once saying "Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if only one remembers to turn on the light" but at times like this she doubted the saying. Padma was stirring beneath her blankets, coming out of the unconscious state Alecto Carrow had left her in after a little run in during Muggle Studies. Said Carrow had offered some quite derogatory terms about her and her sister, all of which were highly offensive and not heard in polite conversation. Something about sleeping around. Not surprisingly, Padma had retaliated, and Mandy had been forced to watch as her friend was subjected to every creative spell that was ever created. The spellwork was really quite beautiful, and her Ravenclaw self couldn't help but admire the choreography behind the precision of the movements. No, that was wrong, just plain wrong. How could she admire the work of someone who was hell bent on hurting her friend who she had known since age 7? She sat there tucking Padma back in and smoothing her hair, fussing over her like a mother hen when one of her chicks are injured. It had taken a lot more than creative spellwork to restore Padma to a state in which she was recognisable as a human being, but it was lucky that she had Ravenclaw blood, or she wouldn't have been able to help. Now, she just looked like she was recovering from a bad bout of 'flu, though Mandy knew there was nothing she could do about the cursed wound on Padma's right leg, and she may be limping for some time.

A cry sounded from one of the lower dorms, and Mandy, with barely a backward glance ran off down the spiral staircase. Padma was old enough to take care of herself for the mean time. The source of the cry came was the exact person she expected it to be from. In the second year dorm there was a young girl who had had nightmares at least twice a week since Neville and Seamus' flogging in the Great Hall. Jane Logger cried herself sick every time she had these nightmares, and Mandy couldn't blame her. She remembered the splatters of blood, and the screams of those who were watching. Many older students put their hands over the younger students' eyes, but little Jane was somehow missed. Like Mandy herself, she had watched crimson coat the whip, and the boys becoming paler and paler. Mandy thanked the men who were strung up with each blow that they refused to cry out. She thought they wouldn't make it. But they refused to grant their captors any screams that would show they were broken. It filled her with this little sensation in her heart that there was hope, and that even the tiniest things could be resisted. It hadn't made it easier to watch.

All Mandy could do was hold the little girl in her arms and try to console her, but knowing it would make no difference. _Perhaps a nice bedtime story? Yes, something soothing and friendly. How about "The Fountain of Fair Fortune"? There's no harm in trying, and I can stay here until she falls asleep, poor girl. _

DotDotDot

Lisa Turpin stood in the Room of Requirement coaching some younger students on the proper way to cast Avada Kedavra. She had been breeding rats for two months, specifically for this purpose, and she had over a hundred. She didn't particularly like it, but it was necessary. If it came to life or death then they must know the curse. They were all struggling with the required level of hatred needed to cast the spell.

"You have to mean it!"

One or two of them had managed to successfully kill their rat, and were helping the others, who were all steadily mastering the horrid unforgivable. Sweet little kids who were yet to understand the gravity of the curse, sitting along side big strapping 6'4 7th years who had fought against their current "teachers", the Carrows.

A 5th year boy, called Thomas Dunstan couldn't get it, no matter how many times he tried. A spell, which clearly wasn't the infamous Killing Curse due it being solid purple, shot out of his wand, and he fell backwards off his chair, spell jet causing a burn mark on the ceiling. Lisa ran over to the short mousy haired boy, who was trembling with fear. He hauled himself back up, but halfway to his feet he was grabbed roughly by the collar, and smacked round the back of the head.

"You bloody idiot, you could have killed us all!" Thomas hung his head rather awkwardly in shame. "I'm not going to save you when you have to fight for your life, I'll have my own to worry about! What will you do then, eh?" Another cuff round the head. She took several deep breaths. _I'm a Ravenclaw, not some idiot Slytherin, or a hot headed Gryffindor._ "Here, I'll show you the correct wand movement. You will get this right." _However, there is no way I will be a sentimental Hufflepuff._

DotDotDot

Luna stood before the gathering in the common room. The entire house stood by age division in every nook and cranny, some sitting on the revered desks. She had always been seen as crazy for some of her more unusual beliefs, but now she cut an imposing figure, and was held with great respect, especially by those who saw her fight in June.

"There is no such thing as safety at Hogwarts anymore. We may be children, but we are going to have to be defenders, soldiers, and perhaps martyrs. This is the blunt truth." Her dirty blonde locks swung behind her as she scanned the room. For some reason, her eyes made you feel as if she was looking straight into your soul.

"The new teachers aren't just our teachers, they are Death Eaters. They won't care if you make an honest mistake. They will torture you. We want to give all of you a fighting chance."

"So, it's every Ravenclaw for himself?" Called Terry Boot

"Or herself!" Interupted a younger student.

"Do you really want me to go into the logics of grammar? When refering to a collecti..."

"No Terry, we aren't just looking out for ourselves. What's that phrase Colin used...One for all and all for one!"

"So it's Ravenclaws together."

"For knowledge, hope and freedom."


	2. Mixtures of Yellow

**Mixtures of Yellow**

**Yellow can be mixed many ways. The pure yellow, which is so bright that you can't imagine any other yellow. An orange-yellow, which is the boldest colour. A friendly green, as pure as fresh grass in the morning. And a yellow-green, a colour unlike anything else. But they all start from the same base.**

**Set during Deathly Hallows, but at different times and not in chronological order. Please review with constructive criticism. It almost feels like Christmas when I get a review.**

At this exact point in time, Susan Bones sat it the Hufflepuff Basement. The squashy armchairs that surrounded her were familiar, but the scene was not. She was holding a tiny first year that could have been no taller than the bookshelves, which were about 4'5. Said first year was sobbing her heart out in agony, and despite Susan's best efforts she had not calmed down in the hour since Susan had come back to the common room after dinner. All this time she had sat on Susan's lap, curled up into a small ball, no bigger than a cushion. After some coaxing, Susan had found out that the poor child had been lost in the corridors when she ran into the Slytherin enforcement squad. Technically it was open to all houses, but Susan, like everybody who was eligible and not in Slytherin, refused to sign up. It would be abandoning all her morals, everything she stood for, and everything her aunt died for. She was prepared to give her life, like so many before, if it would ensure the safety of people like the little girl in her lap. The child had been dragged to the office of Alecto Carrow (Susan swore she would never use the term "Professor" when referring to those two) and cruciated. Cruciated for getting lost and being late to class. Even being late to Snape's classes, which used to be the knell of death, would have only cost you 50 points and a detention on his worst days.

It was terrifying these days to wander the corridors on your own, but it was easy to get separated from the pack of Hufflepuffs to whom you were assigned. First years were the worst, and this was not the first time Susan had been required to comfort a first year crying for their mummy or daddy when feeling the after affects of the cruciatus. The hardest ones to comfort were the ones who had no mummy or daddy to cry for, and when they did it just broke her heart because she knew that she couldn't grant them their most heartfelt wish. Even when they cried for their granny or granddad, aunty or uncle, sibling or cousin, it still hurt because she knew they had lost the ones who should be there for them. She was no replacement, and in her perfect world she shouldn't have to pretend to be one, because there would be no first years crying and screaming, only them smiling and enjoying Hogwarts as it was meant to be enjoyed. _I will just have to work even harder next DA session. I will fight for freedom._

DotDotDot

Ernie Macmillan stood in front of the Carrows, who were looking like a cat that got the cream from the highest shelf possible. It was all Ernie could do to stop himself smiling that the Carrows thought they had got him that easy. There was no way he was going down without a fight. There was a small swish of movement from behind the column they were standing by, and Ernie knew from hours of drill just who was behind the yellow and black trim robes, and measured footsteps, quieter than a ballerina's, but awfully heavy at the same time.

"I am sorry sir, ma'am," Giving them each a short bow when he referred to them, "but I have forgotten to introduce my friend. He seems to take it quite personally anytime someone threatens a Hufflepuff."

The Carrows laughed and Amycus opened is mouth to say something that looked like it may become the word "crucio", but he never finished it because a millisecond later he was doubled up in agony, and Ernie knew straight away his comrade had gone for the kidneys. Alecto turned to face her unknown opponent, wand in hand, but was knocked down to the floor by Ernie's hand crashing into her face from behind. His suspicions were proved correct when the muscular build and sharp features of Wayne Hopkins came into view.

"Glad to see you, old chum, I needed that help. Care to assist in the clean up."

"I think, Macmillan, ya need ta pay mare attention ta ya 'ostages when talkin' ta ya mate!"

Before either Ernie or Wayne could answer they were thrashing around on the floor, cursing their stupidity, while doing their best not to scream, but failing stupendously. When it was over Amycus grabbed them both by their ears and started pulling them towards the dungeons.

"Let's see 'ow cocky ya are ina few days time, eh?"

"Wayne, my friend, I think he would have preferred a simple hello." Ernie was doing his best to wipe away the blood from his split lip, but there was nothing he could do to stop the swelling, and he was making a bit mess on his face from the blood being spread everywhere, though he didn't know because he was lacking a mirror.

"Well nah! Ouch you nutter, that hurt!" Wayne was trying to bat Amycus' hand away from his ear, mirror image to Ernie, who was attempting the same now he had given up on his lip.

"Shat up ya fools, yah in big trouble, ya are." And he tightened his grip on the boys, yanking them closer to their doom.

DotDotDot

Megan Jones was sitting quietly in the corner of her room working on some spells that she found in book during her most recent jaunt to the library. Being actively encouraged to break into the restricted section to learn spells was one of the few things about this year that could even be given the moniker good, though it would hardly classify as good in a past life. Good was something that was fun, enjoyable, and whilst she enjoyed learning, it could hardly be classed as fun preparing for what may be your death. She had learnt to break into the restricted section in her 4th year, along with her friends in Ravenclaw. Sometimes she wished she was a Ravenclaw. They all wanted to work, to learn, and Hufflepuffs just wanted you to try your best. She never felt pushed, and sometimes she regretted that. But then she remembered Luna, and how she was treated, and she realised at times how unusual it was to see a Ravenclaw without a book. She spent some time observing her common room, and she never saw nobody excluded for being different, she never only saw people working, she could hear laughter and friendship, and there was always someone to play Gobstones with when she had enough of losing at chess to Stephen Cornfoot. And she realised that Hogwarts, while it was an intuition of learning, was also a place to make friends. And if you didn't have friends, the world could be a bleak and lonely place. That was why it was better to be a Hufflepuff.

Megan grimaced at a particularly gruesome spell, but she was compelled to note it down, because she could use it, though she would be hard pushed to find a use for a spell that turned someone inside out. At times she regretted being chosen as spell researcher, but then she thought about that if she survived then she would have a hell of a CV. "Those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil". _I'm a Hufflepuff, a hard worker, just think about the aim._

The door burst open, and Sally-Anne came running in carrying 4th year Laura Madley. The younger girl was in a bad way, bleeding from about 20 cuts on her arms and face; she had a swollen lip, and a bruise that consumed her eye. It was probably for the best she was unconscious.

"What happened?" Megan asked, with a tone of urgency.

"I dunno," came a breathless Sally-Anne, "I was on my way back from the room when I found her in the corridor…She had left not 10 minutes before…All broken and bruised…Good job she is smaller than me…Ran all the way here…"

"Breath, Saz."

"Sorry, you try running down 7 stories!"

Megan grabbed a glass of water and thrust it into Sally-Anne's hand. "Drink, don't talk till you've finished." Sally-Anne downed it in one. "Much better, now slowly tell me what it was like when you found her."

"She was unconscious on the floor. Left right in the middle. I doubt someone else had been by, or they would have helped. Not 10 metres from the room, just round the corridor. Must have been there for at least 8 of those minutes if they did her over as long as I think they did"

"Thanks Saz, can you run and get someone good at healing for me. Her friend, Eleanor Branstone I think, she's not bad."

"Right-o Megs, Eleanor Branstone will be here ASAP."

"Shut the door on your way out!"

"Soz boss." The door slammed shut. Megan turned back to her latest patient. This wasn't the first she had treated, no, there had been many since they were bared from the Hospital Wing without a note from the Carrows or Snape. Not surprisingly they never got them unless they were literally dying on their feet, and sometimes not even then. _Right then, fractures to the cranium, just above left eye socket causing swelling…_

DotDotDot

Zacharias realised quite early on that he didn't want to risk his life. He wanted to have an easy year followed by a successful career as a journalist. He didn't care for the camaraderie of the DA, the hard work of the training, and he certainly care for the slightly worrying loss of life clause Neville added at the start of the year. At times he didn't care for Hufflepuff. He silently cursed the problematic fact he was a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff. The Sorting Hat itself said the only reason he wasn't a Slytherin was because of Distant Ancestor Helga. It did add that he hoped that Hufflepuff would bring out the best in him, but fat chance. He looked at the Slytherins with envy, thinking how close he was to them, but the fact that he was in ancestry a Hufflepuff landed him in his ancestor's namesake.

He wandered the corridor alone, not being able to go into the common room because they kicked him out when they had a meeting. He suspected at this very minute they were destroying his great great great however many times grandmas house that she had worked so hard to found. Kicking the wall, he tried to vent his anger. Normally, if he found a time he wanted to explode, he talked to granny's portrait that hung in the common room, but the DA, because he wasn't one of them, denied him even that. This whole year was madness. Even though he wasn't DA Zacharias found himself on the end of the Carrows' wands more times than he cared to count. Sometimes he did wonder if dropping out was the right thing to do, but he knew that he was doing as much as he could to lie low, and that was what he should do, because 18 was too young to die, and 17 was even younger.

He turned another corner in the Transfiguration courtyard when he heard some screams issuing from another corner. Checking the path, he ran as soon as it was clear. Crabbe and Goyle had a tiny Hufflepuff first year pinned up against the wall and they were teasing her, holding her wand above her head. There was no-one around, and the goons hadn't seen him. A quick stunner to each of them took care of the child's problem and it had cost him nothing. He lay down low, so nobody could pinpoint him at the scene of the crime. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the first year grabbed her wand, and he laughed when she thanked whatever force was there. It was the first nice thing a human being had said to him all year. A smile creped onto his face. He may have more of a Slytherin attitude, but he was, forever, a Hufflepuff. When the conditions suited him, of course.

DotDotDot

Hannah gathered everyone in the common room. Little first years perched on the laps of older students and everyone was acting as cheerful as they could under the circumstances.

"Welcome, Hufflepuff. I know this has been quite a bad few days and there is nothing I can say that will change that. You will be aware our new _Professors _are Death Eaters, as is our esteemed Headmaster. We aren't safe any more. I have been conferring with Neville and Terry and we have come to the conclusion you all should be warned. We are working on something more round the clock." Hannah was speaking clearly and confidently, having lost her childhood fear of crowds and stress. The young woman standing before them showed no sign of the red faced pig-tail girl she once was. "We are Hufflepuffs. That means we are loyal to our own. Older years are to escort the younger students everywhere. When I say that I mean _everywhere._ A timetable has been organised, and anyone lower than 3rd year must be with their group at all times outside the common room. Time has been allocated for trips to the library and other places. We don't want you running into the Carrows unprotected. Older students are advised to go places in pairs as a precaution, but we won't force you; you can protect yourself, though if you see a fellow Hufflepuff in need, you help. I know you will dislike these restrictions but they are for your own protection. This year will only get worse, and we need each other more than anything right now. So what do you say?"

"For loyalty, friendship and freedom!"


	3. Uses of Red

**Uses of Red**

**There are so many ways to use red. You have your normal red that is just red, and there is no two ways about it. Purple-Red is a deep colour that calm and even, yet bold. Red-Orange is bright, and can put a smile on your face even on the worst days. But green and red make brown. A colour no-one likes to talk about, almost as if it is a stain on humanity, but it always exists. But it is always uses red.**

**Set during Deathly Hallows, but at different times and not in chronological order. Some references to torture of children, but not particularly graphic. Some slightly sexual scenes, but no further than feeling up and non-consensual snogging. There are quite a few choice phrases, however nothing I didn't know aged 13. Yes, I have borrowed one or two concepts from other fanfictions, but I have made them my own as much as possible. Please review. If you spot a mistake, please tell me.**

Ginny struggled against the harsh unforgiving hand holding her wrist so hard, almost like the time she had got it trapped in the vice on her father's muggle work bench, but she refused to scream and diverted her energy into kicking and scratching at her captor. She would only go down one way, and that was fighting.

"Unhand me you foul, disgusting bitch!"

"Miss Weasley, you are in enough trouble as it is. I suggest you shut up now." Laughing manically she dragged the unfortunate girl closer to the dungeons, not taking care to ensure she came down the stairs safely. Ginny tried to use this to her advantage by attempting to trip Alecto up, but she always missed because at the last minute Carrow stepped to the side. Getting frustrated, her attacks became more violent as she released her fury on the so called teacher who was in front of her. Her resistance earned her a clip round the head.

"Fucking Merlin! That hurt!"

"Then stop that. One more time and I don't care that I'm not supposed to cruciate you buggers in the corridor, and I swear to Merlin you will be screaming about something." The warning did nothing to stop Ginny from attacking, and she managed to get one or two kicks in before Alecto reached the end of her tether. "Right, that's it, blood traitor!" She turned to face the red headed girl whose face showed no fear, and spoke, no, shouted, the words that struck fear into the heart of every adult witch or wizard. "Crucio!" Ginny thrashed on the floor for a short while, but only let small, strangled cries escape her lips. Hoisting herself up using the banister, a quick grin flashed across Ginny's face in a show of defiance.

"Is that really the best you can do?" Two little pink spots appeared on Carrow's cheekbones. "You were much better last sum…" She never got a chance to finish the sentence because she was struck down again, this time by a much better cast cruciatus. Ginny let the curse consume every fibre of her being, yet relishing it with every scream because at least this was something to cry about. _Much better. If we are going to do this, we may as well do it properly._

DotDotDot

Jimmy Peakes stood arguing with Neville Longbottom in the corner of the Room of Requirement.

"But you can't hold a battle in the Library. We could damage all those precious books!"

"Look Peakes, I don't want to destroy them any more than you, but it's our only choice. The library has 1 entrance to trap them, it doesn't look suspicious if they find us before, and there are few people there just before curfew."

"But please Commander; surely there must be another way?"

Neville stood there for a few second contemplating his response. He could see the anguish on the young wizard's face, but their plan was already established, and there was no two ways about it. He hated command at times like this; when he had to tell a DA Cadet that their relatives had been found dead, but the prophet hadn't said a word, or when he had to crush someone's hopes, because they were just impossible to uphold.

"I'm sorry Jimmy, the only thing I could do is to try and stay away from the prised literature section, though I can't promise anything about the final battle."

"Anything Neville. I don't want any knowledge to be lost. We need those books. Even in foreign languages. Terry can translate a million languages, and if it isn't in his repertoire, then one of the other Ravenclaws, or me, will be able too. We need as many exotic, unfathomable, foreign, bizarre spells as possible."

"Consider it done."

"One other thing."

"What is it now Peakes?"

"If anyone is going to be put in charge of responsibility for those books, I want to be there to keep them in line."

There was nothing stopping him now from allowing Jimmy this request. The only thing holding him back was a niggling feeling that Peakes would do something that would hurt the mission.

"You would have to promise not to do anything that could harm the chances of success?"

"On my Cadet's Honour, Commander." _You won't regret this Neville._

DotDotDot

Ritchie Coote sat with a tiny first year boy, being the only 6th year available to help, the others being a bit preoccupied with the Carrows, and Commander and Finnegan had been reported as MIA since lunch. The first year had a massive gash running from his ear to his chin. The garish red of the Gryffindor common room felt cosy and protective, something that was missing from the rest of the castle. It was empty, the other students being in the Great Hall for dinner. The sofa they sat on was in front of the fire, and Ritchie held a protective arm around the little child, whose head, covered in mousy brown curly locks, rested on Ritchie's shoulder

"Shhhh, now. Come on, it isn't that bad. Can you tell me what the matter is?" The boy quietened down enough to sound coherent, but was still sniffling

"Professor Carrow was trying to make me…sniff…cruciate Tim, and I thought I would be brave and make a stand…sniff (at this point he wiped his nose on his sleeve)…and I refused. He told me again to do it, so I said no. He cruciated me…sniff…and told me agin, this time…sniff…sniff…he shouted, I mean literally screamed, but I said no again. He said some spell I couldn't make out, and…sniff…I felt a huge pain on my right cheek. He told me to get out, and that I wasn't to go to Madam Pomfrey."

"You were very brave. Godric Gryffindor would be proud of you."

"Some days I think that I shouldn't be a Gryffindor. I'm not brave when I'm scared to go to Dark Arts because I don't want to be cruciated."

"Someone once told me that bravery is not the absence of fear, but the acceptance of ones fear, and the ability to carry on despite ones fear. You were very brave today. You stood up for what is right. You stood up for your friend, and you walked into that classroom even though you were terrified. That is brave in my books. And not only were you brave, you were loyal, and kind too. I bet Hufflepuff want you, but you are a Gryffindor, so we get dibs. And I will protect any Gryffindor to the end of the world and back.

"Why, Ritchie?...Sniff…Why is this happening?"

"I'm sorry Briac, I can't stop it. I'm powerless. I don't know why it's happening, but I know that no child should ever have to go through what we are going through, and I pray to Merlin everyday in the hope that he can do something, though it never works. But I will try again tonight, and tomorrow, and I will keep going on until this is ended, because it gives me hope that something will change, hope keeps us going, and without hope, what do we have left to live for." _We must keep going, for there will always be light at the end of the tunnel, we just can't see it yet._

DotDotDot

Romilda Vane sat laughing in the cell she had been thrown into, that was situated in the dungeons. They had only left one Slytherin goon squad as guard, and that they thought that was enough just showed how stupid the Carrows really were. Clearly they underestimated her. They would regret that. What did she really have here to make her stay put? The slimy walls; the cold hard floor; or perhaps it was the absolutely stunning bars that were considered enough to hold her? She leaned seductively against the bars, summoning up all her femme fatale to win over the young fifth year standing guard.

"You know, lovely, I can make it worth your while if you just hand over those keys right now. I'll even give them back…" She fluttered her eyelashes at the tall, strong, silent captor that stood between her and freedom.

"No chance blood-traitor!" Laughing at the idea that anything she could do would take his fancy. "The Carrows would have me for dinner. You are just going to stay there while I finish my duty." His brown eyes really did make him attractive, and his handsome mop of blonde hair left Romilda one last idea.

"Look mate, will you come over here towards the bars please?" The young man strode over with the intention of teasing the curly haired rebel, whose face showed nothing but the make-up she plastered on every morning. Romilda leant through the bars, which to be fair, weren't doing the best job of keeping her confined "You really are a ladies man, aren't you sweetie? What with your blonde hair," She ran her hand through said hair, messing it, "Muscular biceps," squeezing the aforementioned muscle, "And that most spectacular arse." She pinched his buttocks, and then put her face right against his. "Let's see how much you like the taste of blood-traitor, eh?" Passionately snogging his face off, she felt around his pockets to find the keys and the boy's wand. He tried to pull away, but she just leant in further, not letting him draw breath. She found them after feeling him up an awful lot. The boy was beginning to lose alertness, just the right time to stop. He was pushed hard, and landed right up against the opposite wall, and this was quickly followed by a stunner to the chest. Sliding the key into the keyhole, Romilda could almost taste freedom. The clink of the lock was too loud in the silence. The creak of the opening mechanism grinding, overly piercing in the stillness. The corridors were empty, which she was thankful for, because it made her escape easier. She rounded another corner in the maze that was the dungeons, and standing at the end of the long, extensive corridor was Alecto Carrow.

"Shit." Romilda considered her chances, but knew there was no hope, because she was in a dead end to the dungeons, and while she could hope to outrun Alecto, there was no way to put her off forever. The stout witch leered as she walked forward.

"Well, well, well. Aren't you currently supposed to be locked under guard in the cells you are walking away from? This, I take it aided your escape." She plucked the wand from her hand, "I guess this belongs to Mr Runcorn. And the keys?" She tapped her foot, waiting for surrender. Romilda complied. Carrow grabbed Romilda's upper arm and marched her back towards the cell she just came from. _Oh well, another day, another escape attempt._

DotDotDot

Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnegan hobbled back to Gryffindor Tower from the Hospital Wing, supported by Ernie Macmillan and Terry Boot, the only other 7th years tall enough to carry them. The slightest movement was agony for the men, tearing up their backs, but they refused to allow pain to consume them. They had been through much worse, and this was dwarfed be the torture they had suffered. Seamus allowed a smile to grace his lips, and began humming "Always look on the bright side of life".

"Seamus, you may be my mate, but if you don't shut up that infernal racket then you will have a hard time explaining to your mother why your face has been re-arranged – muggle style. I have had enough of it while we were on the wall." He doubled over from the exertion this rant had cost, but that created more pain. He was hacking phlegm up.

"Commander, if you don't "shut up" yourself you will not recover. I am ordering you, as a friend, to keep quiet."

"Merlin, Terry…" A look quelled his response. Blimey, he still felt 11.

"Thanks mate! I may get some…" Seamus was also told, in not so polite terms by Ernie to be quiet.

The walked along the grey corridors until they reached the common room. The portraits kept peeking looks at them, for they had all seen the flogging from the few portraits in the Great Hall, and had watched the aftermath. Some had watched as the men were carried to the Hospital Wing unconscious. They heard the contorted cries of pain as Madam Pomfrey tried to heal their thoroughly non-magical wounds caused by Filch's whips that he had been threatening to use for years. The Fat Lady clucked at them sympathetically, but told the two additional boys she wasn't allowed to grant them entry. Neville and Seamus struggled through the portrait hole and into the common room, where the whole house was assembled. Ginny and Lavender ran forwards to help them as soon as the door opened.

"Oh Merlin, you're here, we were so worried…it was horrid…and we weren't allowed into the hospital wing! Damn Snape…" The girls' words got all jumbled up and Neville's head span from excitement. They had gone back to the crowd and before he knew it a cry came from the red headed girl standing front and centre.

"Gryffindors! Salute!" As one, from the smallest first year, to the 7th years wands came out of sleeves and pockets, drawn across their chest as a sign of respect.

"You…didn't have to do this."

"But Neville, this is for our Commander and fellow solider, and for our friends."


	4. Kinds of Green

**Kinds of Green**

**There are many kinds of green. The pure greens; not a harsh colour, but green. A yellow-green, the type you imagine on a bright summers day: happy and cheerful, not sickly. A blue-green: like water, undisturbed water. And red-green, which is just a disliked brownish colour no-one will say they liked. But don't judge green, it's just green.**

**Set in Deathly Hallows at different times, and not particularly in chronological order.**

Dark Arts class bore no resemblance to the subject it had replaced. The classroom showed no resemblance to any of its previous incarnations, save perhaps for during the short tenure of Severus Snape. There wasn't the overpowering smell of garlic from Professor Quirell's spell, nor the ostentatious portraits of Gilderoy Lockhart from his time as DADA Professor. Not light and airy, full of exotic creatures from Lupin's era. No Dark Detectors from imposter Moody. No pink and childish books from Dolores Umbridge's reign. Only the gruesome pictures from Snape's occupancy, the dark shutters on the windows. But somehow, it tasted more ghastly, looked more frightening, sounded more horrific, felt more alarming, and sounded more shocking.

Theodore Nott sat in the back row of Amycus Carrow's class while the squat, unkempt man lectured about the use of the cruciatus curse, and its usefulness re-educating blood traitors. Honestly, that pair gave Slytherins a bad name, though they didn't have a particularly good one before, he mused. Neville Longbottom was chained to the front of the classroom, straining and screaming despite the silencing charms on him. Seamus Finnegan, the only other 7th year Gryffindor boy had a look of pure malice directed at "Amy", as they affectionately termed their instructor. Hand clenched round wand, his white knuckles protruded from his pocket. The two Gryffindor girls sat whimpering at the back of class on the other side to Theo. Lavender Brown was no girly girl, which one might have assumed from her dalliance with Ronald Weasley last year. A mature and sophisticated young woman, she had blossomed this year into a strong and wilful fighter. Yes, she still may have been overly flirty with the Slytherin Boys, but he could speak from personal experience that she held no prisoners when on a mission - many a Slytherin boy had cause to worry if they could still have children after an encounter with her knee. Parvati Patil collaborated in many of her friend's adventures, and was just as feared amongst Theo's peers, to the point where they would turn around and walk away if they saw them come down a corridor. But now, they looked like scared children, terrified for their comrade's safety. Something happened last night, he was sure.

"As ya can see, I 'ave a guest up 'ere with me. Longbottom is gonna be our test subject taday, fa breaking inta the Headmaster's study last nigh'. Mr Nott, let's start with ya. A nice strang curse if ya will."

Theo contemplated it for a minute. He wanted to hear Longbottom scream, but he was fighting YKW, a common cause. It would also suit to have the leader of the rebellion in his debt. He walked forward and whipped out his wand in front of Longbottom's face. Eyes bulged forward, a terror showed in his features. Theo leant to his ear and whispered "Scream". He tried his hardest to say "Crucio" without meaning pain, and it worked, but Longbottom hadn't got it. "Sorry Professor, I'll try again." He whispered again, barely audible, "I said scream idiot". Again, he spoke the words with no feeling, and Longbottom did an admirable impression of someone under the wracking pain the curse should have produced. A final word in the ear "You owe me." And with a smirk he walked back to his place. Yes, this was becoming a great day.

DotDotDot

Astoria Greengrass hated the current regime. She saw the looks the other houses gave Slytherins in the corridor, all because of their most infamous alumni, along with the Headmaster and his deputies. Inside Slytherin house unrest was growing between those who supported the administration, and those who didn't. Her family had opted to remain neutral, thinking it to be the safest place, but had left her stuck in the middle of the conflict.

Giggling Ravenclaw first years past, but seized it when they saw her and carried on hurriedly. It broke her heart, she wanted the world to be at peace, but she really didn't want to get involved. She admired the DA, but that sort of heroicness was too far out of the comfort zone of a Slytherin in her world. It required bravery to the point of stupidity to make a suicide stand, and she couldn't see how the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were possessed with such lack of common sense. Gryffindors, yes, but not the others. This was no time to make a fight to the death; rather, it should be a time to keep your head down, and await a saviour. But she knew they found that impossible. Gryffindors! Where she found it adorable that the Princess wanted the Prince to sweep her of her feet, they thought it pathetic that she should have to wait around and that she should grow some metaphorical balls and ask him out herself. What was so wrong in waiting for Harry Potter to save the day?

Dark shadows loomed round the corner; squeals resounded round the halls. A small Gryffindor was pinned to the wall while ugly and uglier, known to some as Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, taunted the poor child. Screaming harder she pleaded for mercy; a mercy that would never be granted.

"Oi, you two!"

"Whacha want?"

Astoria hadn't thought this far ahead. "Uh, I think Draco wanted you. He seemed to be looking for something."

"Thanks," Replied the less ugly of the two, who then turned to the small Gryffindor, "I'll see you later." They cleared off, talking about what must be for dinner.

"Thanks," came a whimper from the wall, "I thought that they'd never let me go. Why did you help me?"

"I wasn't helping you midget! Scram, now!" Running like she was on fire, the child fled down the corridor. Astoria hated it, but it was a necessary deception. If word got round she was a sympathiser, well, she probably wouldn't live to see the sun rise.

DotDotDot

Graham Pritchard felt strangled. Quite literally he felt under a chokehold. The castle was no longer the safe haven it was in a past life. Expression was discouraged, and individuality forbidden. He experienced claustrophobia from the crackdown. He wanted to be free. To feel the air on his skin, to be happy

He stole out of the door and ran down the corridor he was presented with. The Slytherins had found it much easier to take late night jaunts since Snape had more jurisdiction than the dungeons to patrol. Silence lay over the castle. It wasn't right. He wanted Hogwarts back; not the fortress it had become. Smiling, laughing, and cheering. Not screams, yelling or crying. It shouldn't be like that. He came bright eyed and hopeful as an eleven year old, and now his fate appeared to be that he would leave an unrecognisable young man, hardened by war. Why couldn't he be himself?

The 7th floor seemed a buzz with energy, yet still, and empty just like the other floors. A swish of robes. He dived behind a cabinet. Feet passed, accompanied by hushed voices. Peering round the edge he saw Madam Pomfrey along with Ginny Weasley, who was discussing the best way to treat someone. From what he heard, it was a person suffering the after affects of the cruciatus. He shivered. No-one should feel that. He knew this war was wrong, but he felt powerless to do something. That was not a sensation Slytherins were accustomed to.

5 minutes later he came to the Astronomy Tower door. A creaking, ancient door, beautiful and magnificent. Hogwarts: A History said many of the doors in the castle are original to the building. Stupid Filch must have left it unlocked. Better for him, but he could undo whatever the stupid squib had done anyway. Stone stairs were comforting. If they had stood for a thousand years, then maybe it will last this latest test too. A large room loomed out of the darkness. It was empty, all telescopes having been removed for the night. He walked up to the bar preventing people from falling. Wind whipped round him, causing his hair to blow like those muggle movies he once had an obsession with. He felt free for the first time in ages. He stood on the barsand laughed. This is what he wanted to feel like for the rest of his life. "Those who deny freedom to others deserve it not for themselves", as Abraham Lincoln once said. Those goons masquerading as teachers would pay for what they've done. Because, as Mahatma Gandhi told us "Freedom is never dear at any price. It is the breath of life. What would man not pay for living?"

DotDotDot

Tracey Davis stood in the Room of Requirement in front of the other Slytherins. "I don't care what the rest of you say, I'm staying."

"Tracey, they're out to kill! It's not going to be stunners tonight."

"Doesn't matter. What don't you get? This is bigger than me or you, or even Harry Blessed Potter. They aren't just bad, they're pure evil. I can't let them get away with it. I want to take down every Death Eater bastard I can, and if I die trying, so be it."

"How very unSlytherin of you."

"To hell with Slytherin!" Gasps of shock reverberated around the room. "This isn't about what colour tie you wear at school anymore. Why don't you see that?"

"If we just gave Harry Potter up it would end it!"

"Don't be so idiotic Pansy, do you really believe he will have a nice little cease fire? He won't. Dictators want power. When he's done with Potter, he'll move onto the rest of the muggleborns, then Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and guess who is left. I read a poem my Granddad showed me as a kid. He was a muggleborn, and in that world they had something called the Holocaust. Some mad dictator, not too dissimilar to YKW but with a nose, decided to persecute the followers of a particular religion, but when he was done he moved on to other people." Tracey wished harder than she had ever for the poem, and it appeared next to her. She read it out aloud.

"First they came for the Communists  
>And I did not speak out<br>Because I was not a Communist  
>Then they came for the Socialists<br>And I did not speak out  
>Because I was not a Socialist<br>Then they came for the trade unionists  
>And I did not speak out<br>Because I was not a trade unionist  
>Then they came for the Jews<br>And I did not speak out  
>Because I was not a Jew<br>Then they came for me  
>And there was no one left<br>To speak out for me.

"If we leave it, then who will speak out for us? But this dictator was overthrown and so will…V…Voldemort. All that is needed is for people to stand up and say something."

"I suppose this is goodbye then." Theodore Nott sauntered forwards. He stuck out his hand in an odd gesture of friendship, which Tracey took as it was intended. "I never liked you much, but I think you are right doing what you believe in. I don't have that much courage, to fight a fight that is someone else's, but I admire you. I hope you don't die, but if you do, I don't want you to join me in hell. You deserve better. I wish I got to know you better, too. Who knows, we may have been friends." Tracey was touched. If she had spoken 3 words to Theodore in 7 years, that was it. For him to say she was better than him, well, she didn't know how to respond to that.

"Thank you Theodore, that…that was very kind of you. You do know that I may live. If I don't, please, don't waste whatever freedom you may gain. I want to see you in heaven. Your speech proved you deserve it just as much as I do. Just please, don't do something stupid and join the Death Eaters, or something."

"I'd rather die than that."

"I'll definitely see you in heaven, be it 5 years, or 50."

A voice came from behind, a face that looked older than it was the last time she had seen it. Professor Lupin had come up to help with the evacuation. "Miss Davis, if you wish to fight, you better go back to the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall needs to know."

People swarmed round Tracey, to say goodbye, believing that they may never see her again. She extracted herself from the crowd and began her longest journey, a solitary walk back to the Great Hall. Harry Potter ran past her without a backwards glance, but she plowed on. Heads turned when she re-entered the Great Hall. Gasps came when they saw her tie, but only 8 words escaped her mouth, "So, I thought you might need another body?"

DotDotDot

"Bloody effin' mad!"

"They cruciated some little Gryffindor!"

"Then that Ravenclaw they chained up!"

"They cut open the face of some Hufflepuff as well!"

"Shut up the lot of you! We are Slytherins, not animals! We are civilised, not barbarians. Now, I know today has been a bit worrying, but you must remember to show decorum at all times. We mustn't let standards slip." Daphne flicked a strand out of her face, red from screaming to be heard. "Now, I care not for your politics, I don't care if you want to run off and join Neville Longbottom in his harebrained plans, all I want is a united front."

"Not bloody likely! I won't be all chummy with some blood traitor!"

"I don't care who your father is Harper, I am Head Girl, and you will do as I say!"

"You can't tell me what to do." He mumbled.

"Yes I bloody can. You must understand we will be watched less than, say, Gryffindor, but we aren't immune to it all. I found two of our own firsties in a corridor shaking and screaming for their mothers because they were tortured. For being late. Surely Slytherin is more important than whether someone believes that YKW is going about his plans the right way?"

"Fine. But don't expect me to be nice to the filthy traitors."

"I'll take that as a yes. No-one is to let me down. Do you hear? Or else, I will find someway to make your last minutes on earth so painful the cruciatus would be a welcome relief." A few first years, and some second years gulped in worry at the last statement.

"So then, do we have a deal, to protect ourselves, our housemates, and the integrity of Slytherin House itself?"

**Wow, this is the longest thing I have ever written. 10K words later, and I'm still wondering what all the fuss was for my puny 2K word English essay. Sorry this has taken me a while to get up, but GCSEs take precedence according to my teachers, and I do need the grades. The poem was one I read aged 13, and it had a profound impact on me, and the quotes are from r****andom internet searches. Please review, because it will help me improve.**


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